Goldinarcs and the Three Empaths

Once upon a time, there was a narcissist called Goldinarc. She went for a walk in the Forest of Empathy as she had heard that there were always some fresh victims she could find there. Pretty soon, she came upon a beautiful cottage. She didn’t bother knocking, she never did and in accordance with her sense of entitlement she just pushed the door open and walked in.

She found the interior to have all the trappings of empathy. There was a large doormat with welcome written on it, there were various books about spirituality, self-improvement and the universe on a set of shelves and the décor was relaxing and not showy.

“I wouldn’t live here myself,” she sniffed as she wandered through the rooms until she entered the kitchen where she saw three bowls of soup on the table. Feeling hungry and knowing that she had an inalienable right to commandeer the resources of another, she tasted the soup from the first bowl.

“Yuk, what a cheap and nasty tasting soup,” spluttered Goldinarc and she tipped the soup onto the floor smiling at the dismay the owner of the house would experience and thus she gained some Thought Fuel. She moved on to the next bowl.

“Urrgh cabbage soup, clearly someone is trying to lose some weight, obviously not as beautiful as me. I do not need to eat this crap,” she announced and poured the contents on the floor also.

Goldinarc turned to the third bowl. This bowl was beautifully designed and set with precious stones. A silver spoon rested in it and Goldinarc scooped up a mouthful of the soup.

“Oh that is delicious, a bowl of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall. Yum yum.” Goldinarc ate it all up. When she had finished she suddenly felt restless and annoyed.

“I enjoyed that soup but whoever made it thinks they can make better soup than me. I hate them!” So in a fit of ignited fury she smashed the ornate bowl on the floor and bent the silver spoon in her mouth before dropping it on to the table.

After scoffing the bowl of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall soup, Goldinarc decided she needed to sit down and watch some television. She moved to the living room and found a small wooden stool.

“I am not sitting on that, that is a stool for a peasant,” she sneered and slammed her foot down on it, breaking the wooden stool.

Her eyes alighted on an armchair with a cushion which looked rather comfortable. She tried it but if felt lumpy. Scowling, Goldinarc jumped up and ripped the cushion apart as she called the chair names, slashing at the fabric with her long, red nails.

Just then she saw a throne.

“Aha, that is far more to my taste,” she remarked. She settled on the throne and felt most at home as she imagined how people would admire her as she sat resplendent and noble. After a while however she became bored because there was nobody there to see what she was doing so she stood up and took a knife from the kitchen. She carved her name into the throne.

“Now, since it obviously belongs to me, everyone will know it is mine and therefore nobody else is allowed to sit in it,” she said smugly.

Goldinarc gave a yawn. All this malicious behaviour was tiring but she also felt weak because nobody was around to see her machinations, so she decided that she would head upstairs and have a nap to await the owners of the cottage who would surely be home soon and available to provide her with some fuel.

Once upstairs, Goldinarc found three bedrooms. She entered the first and found a very small bed in an extremely tidy room.

“That bed is no use to anybody, pathetic!” she declared and tipped it over before knocking over the carefully placed bottles, books and other trappings of the bedroom’s owner, making a right old mess.

She went into the second bedroom and found a bed of nails on the floor.

“Hmm,” mused Goldinarc, “this must be a Martyr’s bedroom but there is no way I am sleeping on that.” She hitched up her skirt (and she never wore panties since she was such a slut) and peed over the bed of nails.

“Try sleeping with that pong!” laughed Goldinarc.

Goldinarc went to the third bedroom and pushed open the door to see a massive bed and inside of it lay seven small men.

“Oi!” shouted Goldinarc causing the dozing men to wake with a jolt.

“Aren’t you in the wrong story?” she asked as the bewildered little men all sat up and stared at her.

“Begging your pardon miss, we were just having a rest, we will be on our way right this moment and out of your story,” said one, a handsome fellow with shining eyes.

“Not so fast,” grinned Goldinarc as she closed the door behind her, “You are just what I have been looking for!”

“Please miss, we had best be getting back to our mistress, she will be worried about where we are,” remarked another of the men who had a carefully trimmed beard and a diamante ear-ring. The men started to move, trying to clamber out of the sumptuous bed.

“Oh I don’t think so,” cried Goldinarc, “I know who you are.”

Goldinarc then pointed at each of the little men as she called out their names.

As she said each name, the little men each became transfixed, a loving and helpless look coming over their faces as they were ensnared by the charm of Goldinarc. Smiling, Goldinarc started to remove her dress as she made her way to the bed and the waiting little men.

Some time later Goldinarc lay in the centre of the bed surrounded by the exhausted little men all of whom had fallen asleep once again, drained of their fuel. Goldinarc was asleep also, a smile of contentment plastered on her lips, her golden hair spread out across the pillow as she slept the sleep of the righteous.

Meanwhile, the Three Empaths, Honesty, Decency and Integrity, had arrived home at their cottage after a day of assisting at the soup kitchen, collecting for an orphanage charity and feeding stray animals on the streets of a nearby town. They were jolly hungry after their charitable exertions and made straight for the kitchen.

“Oh my, someone has etched the name Goldinarc into my throne, who would do such a thing?” declared Integrity.

“Someone called Goldinarc, just a guess,” said Honesty quietly.

In search of the vandal, the Three Empaths went upstairs.

They reached the first bedroom.

“Oh heaven to Betsy,” cried Honesty as she looked in on her overturned bed and trashed bedroom, “the Feng Shui has been desecrated!”

They reached the second bedroom.

“Sweet Jesus and the baby orphans,” cried Integrity as she smelt the ammonia of Goldinarc’s urinary insult, “my room stinks!”

They reached the third bedroom and tentatively pushed the door open to see the naked Goldinarc surrounded by the seven naked little men. Goldinarc awoke instantly and stared at the Three Empaths.

“Poor thing, she has no room at all with all those dwarves hogging the bed,” cried Honesty.

“Poor thing, she will catch a chill without some night clothes,” cried Decency.

“Poor thing, judging by the looks on those dwarves’ faces, they have stolen her innocence,” cried Integrity.

“Damn right!” cried Goldinarc seizing the moment and putting her hands to her face in mock horror, “these evil little bastards poured soup on the floor, smashed a bowl, broke a chair, ripped up a cushion, shredded an armchair, vandalised the throne, trashed a bedroom, pissed on another bed and then dragged me in here when I tried to stop them wrecking the complete cottage and had their wicked way with me. Help me, please!”

And so it came to pass that the seven dwarves received jail time for an array of crimes and the Three Empaths took Goldinarc under their wing providing her with a steady stream of fuel, traits and residual benefits but nobody lived happily ever after……

I don’t want to get everyone all upset but the fact is; we do think alike HG. We cannot ‘steal’ from one another. It’s irrelevant.

Personally, I don’t usually use fairy tales (I have done in previous writings) except I recognise that there are a lot of deep truths within them. I, as a writer, like to mine ‘Le Morte ‘d’Arthur by T. Mallory.’ And yes, I have read it. The original, I mean. I wrote about this months ago. It’s called ‘The Parable of the White Knight’

The concept of Lancelot, the brave knight, who wounds himself deliberately, is a profound one. The wound that is never healed. The search for the Grail. One land; one king. (Or queen).

I have searched for my ‘Grail’. But it will never come. My wound is too deep. I have my friends, my family but will I ever have real, true love? I think not.

Very Good!
I think I’ve now read Goldilocks, Red Riding Hood and 3 Little Piggies!
I love this because we all want the Fairytale, so clever to ruin them but these are things that actually happen to us. Is this a new series of books to buy? Also, if we wanted books autographed HG – would this be possible?

Good stuff!
Personally, I’d like some autographed for myself but I can also think of a friend who would appreciate this as a gift too. It’s soon to be Christmas and I couldn’t think of a better gift to give a struggling friend.

The 3 empaths got tired a being sucked dry by Goldinarc. They had never heard of her kind, but became suspicious about Goldinarc all the same. Their empathic souls had become uncomfortable around her. They installed a number of audio augmented nanny cams around the house, and GPS tracked her phone with spyware their tech friends had hackef in and installed. The spyware included listening capabilities so they could hear all the lies and bullshit. They read all her sex chats and identified her many social media false IDs. They discovered the array of sex partners she dragged into their house.

After being thoroughly grossed out, they realised Goldinarc had an incurable soul sickness and that she was leaking soul poison onto many innocent people as well as infecting others. This went against everything they believed as just.

They drugged Goldinarc with the date rape drug. They hauled her unconscious body to an avalanche area and placed on the ground. They moved to a distance, triggered the avalanche, and watched as Goldinarc was buried under tons of snow. They said a prayer for her and went home, peaceful in the knowledge that they had removed an infection point from society. They lived normal lives ever after. (They also got the dwarves released and their records expunged from the false convictions.) Goldinarc’s body joined the ecosystem, providing the only genuine return of her entire existence.